


Home

by Aiyestel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Companions, F/M, Home, Whiterun, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiyestel/pseuds/Aiyestel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vilkas reflects on the woman who stole his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

It was something on the wind. Winter brought the cold and snow to Whiterun in force. It settled in among the buildings, creeping through the hold to assault the keep with a ferocity emboldened by its allegiance with the harsh north wind. Yet all that force was no match to what he sensed now. It was no one scent, no single overpowering smell. It was a symphony of different fragrances, all unique and together more powerful than any winter storm he had yet encountered.

It was her scent.

The hint of honey that came from the soaps she kept tucked away in her packs. The stronger tang of campfire smoke that tangled with her hair and clothes so intricately that it had become a part of her. A bitter whiff of the reagents she used to concoct the healing potions he always wished she had more of. They all belonged to her, they all  _were_ her.

After dark when Jorrvaskr grew quiet he slipped out the door. For such a large man he moved quietly, the only sound marking his passage being the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet. The guards of the hold nodded and then moved on nervously, whether unnerved by his presence or the ever looming threat of dragons he couldn't say.

Sometimes he wished a dragon would appear over Whiterun. Perhaps it would be enough to call her home again.

 _Home_.

He remembered when she had first come to Jorrvaskr, the little Breton with a sword that seemed bigger than she was. She had asked if she could join the Companions and he had been sure she wouldn't cut it but Kodlak had insisted he test her skill. He had been surprised at how well she could swing the blade she carried. After a few good thumps that he still professed to have allowed he begrudgingly admitted that her skill was worth at least half a chance.

He wasn't sure when he had started looking for her within their hall. One day she was simply there, even though she'd been there all along. He took note of her comings and goings, of the bruise on her cheek when she returned from some private business or the hitch in her gait following the reports of a mysterious woman defeating a dragon in the wilds. He listened to the soft melody of her voice when she laughed and noted the way she leaned forward intently when Farkas or Skjor engaged her in conversation. He didn't know what this feeling in his chest was but he didn't like it almost as much as he didn't like when her eyes lingered on the other Companions.

What he hadn't noticed was just how often her eyes had lingered on him. He had been too busy swallowing his confusion to see the fine blush that spread over her cheeks when their eyes met from across the room. Both had looked away far too quickly to notice the same reaction mirrored on the other’s face.

Finally she had taken matters into her own hands. She may be small but she had more than enough courage, sometimes too much in his opinion. Some of the tales she returned with had her dashing into a thieves den on her own, making her escape with a laugh and by the skin of her teeth. It was enough to make his heart pound in his chest, which is exactly the reaction he had when she cornered him one evening as the sun fell behind Dragon's Reach.

Her grey eyes had been dancing and he watched as the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her chapped lips.

"What is it, Taima?" he asked. He corrected himself immediately even though he liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. "I mean shield-sister."

She laughed. “You  _can_  call me Taima. It is my name after all.”

She had needed a favor; a companion to accompany her on a task she may not walk away from alone. That had been the beginning of the end for him. He could no longer pretend she didn’t hold some part of him with her wherever she went. He no longer  _wanted_  to pretend.

That was how he found himself waiting at the entrance to Whiterun not so many years later, peering through the drifting snow like a child intent on candy.

She appeared quite suddenly out of nowhere, melting out of the darkness like a wraith. The grin that lit up her features could never be mistaken for anything so dark and a weight lifted from his shoulders when she came to stand whole and smiling before him.

“How did you know?” her voice was soft.

She was pack, but she hadn’t yet developed the keen sense of smell that came with years of becoming one with the blood coursing through their veins. She always sighed with exasperation when he used that explanation, when he told her she would get there eventually. It just took time. Sometimes she would growl under her breath and he would laugh because she had that part down perfectly.

This time he didn’t want to spoil the moment. He had waited for her return long enough.

She knew it was the beast blood. She knew he wanted to say it would just take time for her to develop that sense. As much as that answer exasperated her she pushed it aside, there was something more important to do.

She laid her hand on his chest, the steel breastplate smooth and cold beneath her fingers and rose up on her tip toes. Even then she couldn’t quite reach his mouth and he found his lips curving up as he bent the last few inches to press his mouth to hers.

“I just knew.” 


End file.
